


Rescue

by Jestana



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2019 [3]
Category: Talented Mr Ripley (1999)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Don’t copy to another site, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jestana/pseuds/Jestana
Summary: Peter is accosted on his way home from work, and then rescued.





	Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the February Ficlet Challenge. The prompt was 'alternate universe: vampires'.

"You are a pretty thing, aren't you?" Backing away from the stranger with the hungry eyes and gleaming fangs, Peter Smith-Kinglsey wondered if he'd made the worst decision of his life.

Taking firm hold of his bag, he said, "I can assure you that I don't have any money, sir."

"Oh, it's not money I'm after, little snack," the stranger replied, matching every step Peter took backwards with a step forward.

Peter's heart stuttered when he felt a stone wall against his back. "Um, then what _do_ you want? All I have is my sheet music, and some food."

"Ah, I don't need _your_ food." The stranger lightly trailed a fingernail up along Peter's neck, tracing the vein. "Just this."

Before he could think of a reply beyond the fact that vampires were apparently quite real, another voice interrupted from nearby, "Sorry to interrupt your midnight snack, Lyle."

"That's not my name." The vampire-- Lyle?-- snarled the words, turning to face the newcomer.

The lanky young man with sandy blond hair and green eyes smirked. "What, Lyle? Are you sure? That's what your records show."

"Maybe you shouldn't taunt the vampire," Peter suggested, flinching when he drew Lyle's attention back to him.

Purring, the vampire leaned in to sniff Peter's neck. "Such a sensible snack."

"I'm trying to save your life," the stranger told Peter, looking exasperated. "You could at least try to cooperate."

Pushing at the vampire's chest to no avail, Peter told him, "If that's what you're doing, could you move a little faster, please?"

"Fine, you might want to drop to the ground and cover your head, then." The stranger pulled a wooden object out of his coat.

Nodding, Peter did exactly that. After a moment, the vampire's body fell to the ground beside him, a wooden stake through his heart. "This was not what I expected when I left for home."

"Few people expect to be accosted by vampires." The stranger drew a sword from inside a cane and sliced the vampire's head from his body. "There, double insurance that he's truly dead."

Though he tried not to, Peter couldn't stop himself from throwing up what little food he had in his stomach. "Oh, god."

"I'm sorry about that, but vampires have a nasty habit of surviving." The stranger offered Peter an apologetic smile and a handkerchief.

Accepting the handkerchief, Peter wiped his mouth and wished desperately for something to rinse his mouth out with. "And to whom do I owe my life?"

"Ah, right." His smile sheepish, the stranger offered his hand. "Tom Ripley."

Peter shook his hand, raising an eyebrow. "I'm Peter Smith-Kingsley. Forgive me for being impertinent, but are you staying with Dickie and Marge?"

"For now." Tom nudged the body at their feet. "Dickie's tired of me, but I can't leave until I know the vampire threat is gone."

Nodding, Peter blurted out his next question without stopping to think about it. "You could come stay with me. Maybe I could help."

"I couldn't drag you into this," Tom's gesture encompassed both the vampire at their feet and the city as a whole.

Raising his eyebrows, Peter told him, "I've already been dragged into it, Tom. May as well help out as much as I can."

"Thank you, then." Tom looked relieved. "Let's deal with Lyle, here, and then we'll figure it out from there."

Just as they turned to deal with the vampire, Tom swayed and stumbled. He'd have fallen to the ground in a heap if Peter hadn't caught him. "Tom?"

"Shit. Haven't eaten much the last couple days," Tom muttered, his voice faint. "Dickie kicked me out and what little money I have is gone."

Shaking his head, Peter fished in his bag for the orange he'd saved from dinner. "Here. I was saving this for myself, but you need it more than I do."

"Are you sure?" Tom stared at the orange with hunger in his eyes.

Peter nodded firmly. "I'm sure. Eat."

"Thank you again." Taking the orange, Tom peeled it with shaking hands and carefully ate it, section by section.

As he ate, Peter supported him, idly rubbing his back with one hand. "Do you have your luggage with you?"

"It's not far," Tom told him, licking the orange juice from his fingers with a blissful expression on his face. "Can't exactly carry it with me when I'm trying to be sneaky."

Ignoring the way his body reacted to the look on Tom's face, Peter told him, "Let's go get it, and then head to my place."

"First things first." Tom straightened up and retrieved a metal can from nearby. When he opened it, Peter could smell gasoline. He watched as Tom poured it over the body, and then threw a lit match on top of it. "When the sun comes up, what's left of him will turn to dust."

Peter nodded and walked with Tom back to where he'd left his suitcase. Then they headed to Peter's flat together. _I have a feeling my life will never be the same again._


End file.
